llie screamed, "O nuffin, grandma, on'y--O Ruthie,
come down, quick!"

One bright May afternoon, however, the work was finished, and John,
jealous of the privilege, donned his Sunday coat and stumbled up to
his mother's room in the most awkward manner to break the news.
"Mother, can you come down below a few minutes now?" said he, trying
to appear unconcerned.

"Why, la me!" smoothing her "front" and refolding her neckerchief,
"has the minister come? I aint fixed up one bit."

"No, no, mother, there's no occasion for fixin' up. It aint much of
anything, only me--that is,--well, perhaps you'd better come now."

"John," said the old lady solemnly, laying her hand on his arm, "if
it's bad news, just tell me right away. The Lord will give me strength
to bear it, just as he has the dispensations all along."

Poor John! how to acquaint the old lady with this "dispensation" he
didn't know; but Tillie came to the rescue.

"O g'anma," said she, seizing one of the wrinkled hands, "we can't
wait another minute. It's all splendid; and Nick, and Ruth, and baby,
and I have all got our clean aprons on, and Wesley, he's in, so come
straight down," and timing her impatient hops to the tottering
footsteps she guided, Tillie soon had grandmother in the midst of a
smiling group, while the relieved father brought up the rear.

"Now, g'anma," said Ruth, seizing the free hand, "shut up your eyes
tight till we say open 'em," and then the delighted children, followed
by the rest of the family, drew her into the old spare room. "Now,
now, g'anma, open, open! and what do you see?" they cried, dancing and
clapping their hands. Grandmother looked around her in perfect
amazement. Truly a wondrous change had been wrought! Beautiful light
paper covered the walls, and a bright, soft carpet the floor, while
pretty shades hung before the four great windows, whose tassels swung
back and forth in the sweet May air like bells, dumb for joy.

"John, John, what does this mean?"

"It's your room, g'anma," shouted a chorus of voices.

"Why, this is good enough for a queen! You can't mean it all for a
poor old creature like me," and the darling old lady's eyes began to
run over with happy tears, while John tried in vain to find voice to
answer, and dear, patient Phoebe sobbed outright.

"Why, g'anma," shouted little Nick at the top of his voice, "I
shouldn't think you'd cry, 'cause this is the cutest room in the
house; and when me and Wes comes in,